


from now on,

by relish



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slow Burn, Tags will be updated as we go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relish/pseuds/relish
Summary: “You okay, dude?” the stranger looked concerned, and Dorian was clutching at the neck of the bottle, knuckles turning white.“Who the fuck are you?” Dorian asked.or in where a strange man moves into Dorian's apartment, his friends can't help but meddle, and Dorian just wants to sleep.





	1. Chapter 1

Dorian was dead. He was dead and in hell, for that was the only explanation that after waking up at six, going to classes at eight, visiting Felix at twelve, going to work at one, studying at the damn library at five, and now, at one in the sodding morning, when he could finally sit for one minute, he instead walked into his apartment to find a stranger in the spare bedroom.

He couldn't even deal with the situation. He’d opened the door, seen the blonde  _ bastard  _ sitting cross legged on the bed, vaguely heard him start a greeting and walked right back out.

Which is why he was now leaning on the kitchen counter and taking a huge chug straight from the wine bottle.

“Uhm,” the stranger had now appeared in the kitchen doorway, crouching to not hit his head on the door frame. He was wearing horrendous orange shorts and a red T-shirt with a yellow illustration of a sun and the text  _ ‘girls just wanna have sun’ _ . An outfit one would wear only at home.  _ His home. _

“You okay, dude?” the stranger looked concerned, and Dorian was clutching at the neck of the bottle, knuckles turning white.

“Who the  _ fuck _ are you?” Dorian asked.

The strangers (intruders) eyebrows shot up, like he wasn't expecting the question. After a moment he pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Do you see anyone else?” Dorian spread out his arms, emphasizing his point. He knew he was near yelling, but he really couldn't give less of a shit right now. He just wanted to sleep.

The man looked nervous, eyes darting around the small kitchen. He was still standing in the doorway. “You don't know?”

Dorian squeezed his eyes shut and pinched at his nose bridge. This mess was giving him a headache. “Would I ask if I knew?” his tone was as if he was talking to a child, not to a full grown adult.

“Ah, fuck, shit,” rubbing at his face he retreated into the spare bedroom that he had apparently claimed for himself. A moment later he came out while going through his phone.

He brought the phone to his ear, still swearing. Dorian heard the beeps of a call going through, and soon the familiar grovel of Bull could be heard.

_ “Hello?” _

“Why doesn't the dude know why I’m here?”

_ “..What?” _

“Why doesn't,” the stranger held the phone away from his mouth and turned to Dorian. “Terribly sorry, I didn't catch your name?”

“Uhh, it’s Dorian. Dorian Pavus.” he answered, stunned into compliance.

“Brilliant, thank you,” he put the phone on speaker. “Why doesn't Mr. Pavus here know I moved in?”

“You  _ what _ ?” Dorian’s voice had risen to a shout. “Bull, what the fuck did you do?”

_ “You said you needed a roommate!” _

Dorian groaned and took a swig from the bottle.

_ “Dorian, put the bottle away!” _

“Usually, you inform someone when you send someone to live with them!” Dorian yelled. The stranger was holding onto the phone, looking as irritated with the situation as Dorian felt. He was tapping his bare feet against the cold tile floor.

“Bull, you said he was informed and cool with this.” he wasn't yelling, but wasn't hiding his annoyance either. While he argued with Bull, Dorian took a moment to take in his apparent new roommate.

First thing, he was  _ tall _ . He'd probably be even taller were it not for his horrifying posture. His blonde hair was curly and in a small ponytail. The man was pale and seemed to be covered in freckles from head to toe. The only place devoid of them was a large scar that cut across his dark and thick eyebrow. Intricate tattoos were covering his arms and legs, and seemed to travel up to his throat.

Soon he became aware that Bull’s voice no longer echoed throughout the kitchen, and the man in front of him was staring at him. He had light brown eyes.

“What?” Dorian asked.

The blonde man sighed. “Bull says he's sorry and that we should continue this tomorrow.”

Dorian rubbed at his eyes before pushing himself off the kitchen counter and putting the opened wine bottle back in the fridge. He turned to the blonde giant and fixed him with a glare.

“You sleep here tonight, and tomorrow this will be handled. Capiche?” his tone gave away that it was an order, not a question.

The blonde straightened under his stare and gave a hard nod. Dorian pushed past him to get to the bathroom to clean up. He dug around his cabinets for makeup remover, but instead found a bright yellow toothbrush and products he knew not to be his. 

Sighing, he pulled out all his skincare and begun the process of removing all his eyeliner and concealer, afterwards washing and moisturizing his face. He brushed his teeth and exited the bathroom.

As Dorian was dragging himself back to his bedroom, he stopped in front of the now occupied spare bedroom. It’s true that he’d been thinking about a roommate, and he never used the room for anything. It had sat empty, gathering dust for the all of two years he'd had the apartment.

Taking in a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Once he heard a muffled ‘come in’ he dared to pull it open and peek in.

The man was once again sitting cross legged on the bed. He had headphones on, one earpad pushed back to allow Dorian’s voice to come through if needed. he was typing furiously on his phone, before turning off the screen and looking up at Dorian.

Realizing he was waiting for him to say something, Dorian cleared his throat. “I just wanted to apologize for my behaviour earlier. This,” he gestured to the entirety of the apartment. “Mess is not your fault. So sorry.”

The man snorted. ”S’all good.” his phone vibrated to signal a message. Once, twice, five times.

“Someone's impatient.” Dorian said.

The blonde spared a glance at his phone and smiled. Sixth. “Yeah, my friend’s like that.” Seventh.

Dorian cracked a small smile. He could relate, with Bull and Varric bearing down on his neck on the daily. Eighth.

“Shouldn't you reply?” Dorian asked.

He shrugged. “I'm talking to you. A bit rude.” Ninth. “She's probably spamming me with bee emojis, anyway.” 10th, 11th.

Dorian nodded, he really didn't have anything to add to that.

“Well, I'm off to bed now. I'll see you tomorrow..” Dorian coughed into his hand awkwardly. “What's your name, again?”

The blonde grinned, revealing sharp canines. “Felis Lavellan, pleased to make your acquaintance.” he gave a small bow, complete with a fancy hand twirl and all. 12th.

“Alright. Night, Lavellan.”

“Night, Pavus.”

Dorian pushed the door closed and leaned against it. He really had zero energy left with this situation, he was exhausted, angry, and had a stranger (no,  _ Felis Lavellan _ ) in his home. He had half a mind to call Bull and yell at him some more, the bastard had even picked the day when he’d be away from his apartment for as long as possible.

Instead, he pushed himself off Lavellan’s room door and dragged himself into his own. Without even taking his jeans off he fell on the bed, soon drifting into a dreamless slumber.

\----------------

Dorian woke up to the screeching of a rooster ringing through his room. Groaning, he blindly felt for his alarm clock, and searched for the off button. After a few moments of fumbling, he sat up on the bed and snatched the clock into his hands, turning it off.

The red numbers flashed 8.02 AM.

Dorian rubbed at his face and dug the meat of his palms into his eyes, trying to gather enough strength to get out of bed. He had never been a morning person, much preferring the quiet and peace of the night.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and forced himself up. Grabbing his glasses from his desk, he made his way to the kitchen, and was disappointed to see from the curtainless windows that the sun hadn’t risen yet. As if winter wasn’t depressing enough without the four month long darkness.

Dorian sighed, and turned the electric kettle on for his morning tea. He dug through his cabinets, and alongside of his usual selection of tea, he found coffee. Dorian didn’t drink coffee. He certainly didn’t  _ own _ any coffee.

“What the..” Dorian mumbled, and took a peek into the sink. There, sat a dark ceramic mug with a large sunflower. Next to it, was a small french press, coffee grounds still pressed to the bottom.

Dorian groaned as the memories of the previous night came flooding back. Turns out, Lavellan is a coffee drinker. Dorian grabbed a pack of white tea, prepared his mug, and walked to the spare bedroom. He knocked on the door. No response.

“Lavellan?” Dorian called out. No response. He let out a quiet ‘hmph’ as he pulled the door open, only to be met with an empty room. The bed was made, and everything seemed to be in order. The only hint that this Lavellan had ever been in Dorian’s apartment were the moving boxes on the floor and the sunflower mug in the kitchen.

Dorian closed the door, and walked to his room. He set his mug on the nightstand, and grabbed his phone from the bed. 4%. Brilliant. Seems he never plugged it in before passing out cold.

He plugged his phone into the charger and started going through his notifications, absentmindedly sipping at his tea. Four texts from Bull, one from Varric, three emails, and a Candy Crush reminder. He tapped at Bull’s texts, opening the log.

-

**Bull: (6.01)**

meet me at heralds @ 2?

**Bull: (6.21)**

btw jsut sayin

**Bull: (6.21)**

youre keeping the dude

**Bull: (6.22)**

i have a sales pitch made of him >:--)

-

Dorian rolled his eyes, but sent out a  _ ‘we’ll see. see you at 2.’  _ Varric had sent him a link to a movie review, and Dorian noted to watch it later. He opened the emails next. One from his history professor, informing that today's lecture was canceled, as she had fallen ill. The other two were just reminders to renew his subscription to god knows what.

He glanced at the time. 8.18 AM. He had time to kill, so he pulled out a book and read till it was time to get ready, and drag himself to class.

\-------------------

“Amazing, how you were the one who wanted to see me,” Dorian started, his tone overly sweet as Bull sat down across from him. “yet you’re late.”

Bull chuckled, and handed him a chai latte. “What can I say, I’m in high demand.”

“I see.” Dorian replied, taking a sip from his cup. “I was promised a speech that convinces me to invest in a blonde giant.”

“You said you wanted a roommate. I got you a roommate.” Bull said, drinking from his energy drink. How he could drink those without throwing up, Dorian would never know.

“Not convinced.”

“C’mon Dory,” Dorian arched a dark eyebrow at the nickname. “Give the kid a chance.” Bull pleaded.

Dorian narrowed his eyes. “Why? I don't know a damned thing about him.”

Bull was picking on the clip on the energy drink can, seemingly trying to come up with a convincing argument.

“He's already there isn't he? Less trouble to let him stay than cast him out.”

“That's a shit reason and you know it.”

Bull sighed and rubbed at his shaved head. “Dorian, I know you're softer than you let on.”

“That's not-”

“So I know this argument was over the minute you saw his shit in your apartment. I know you. You'd never throw the guy out on the streets.” Bull ripped the clip off the can with a small 'click'.

Dorian frowned. “I'm not a charity, Bull.”

“You'll be able to stop accepting your parents money.” Bull said with a lift of his eyebrows, chugging down the rest of his energy drink. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes, even the blind one.

“Low blow, you cow.” Dorian grumbled, but his mouth quirked into a small smile. He'd been dreaming of the day he'd be able to throw his parents money back into their faces, but college loans really didn't give him the choice.

“So you'll keep him?” Bull smiled and stroked his goatee.

Dorian gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, I'll keep your stray.”

“Perfect.”

Bull pulled out his phone, quickly typed something out, and tucked it back into his coat pocket. Dorian’s phone vibrated to signal a message.

“That's his number,” Bull grabbed his cane and got up. “Help him move in, he still has some shit at his old place. Have fun, make a day out of it.” With a wave, he exited Herald's rest and left Dorian sitting alone.

Sighing, he saved the contact under “Felis Lavellan”, and typed out a quick message.

_ “hey, it's dorian pavus. when are you back? we’ll go handle your lease with the landlord, and i can help you move your stuff in if you need it.” _

Not even a minute went by when he received a response.

-

**Felis Lavellan: (2.24)**

oh awesome!

**Felis Lavellan: (2.24)**

im done in like 10 mins, ill meet u at the front door?? im at campus so itll take like extra 30 min

**Felis Lavellan: (2.24)**

& sure i could use the help! :3c

_ Sent: (2.25) _

_ sure. see you in 30 minutes, then. :) _

**Felis Lavellan: (2.25)**

seeya pavus !

-

Dorian sighed. It had taken Bull less than 20 minutes to convince Dorian to take in a man he learned the name of yesterday. Less than 20 minutes for Dorian to sell out most of his privacy for the thought of being financially independent.

Well, this Lavellan character better be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first writing in years excluding school work....... also first work for the dragon age fandom!  
> and if anyones confused abt a tall elf, dai was the first game i played from the da universe, and i didnt realize they were small :') in my defense, they kinda dropped that piece of lore for dai  
> (id also like to point out that the mug is real and gorgeous https://www.amazon.com/Sunflower-Mug-Pack-of-3/dp/B00O548UN6)


	2. Chapter 2

Dorian had been waiting for 10 minutes when a beat down SUV pulled up in front of the apartment building, Felis Lavellan stepping out of it. He slammed the door closed, and spoke to the driver through the open window. In a moment the car drove off, leaving Lavellan waving after it.

Dorian was pleased to see that his earlier attire was his home outfit, and he actually dressed decently. He was wearing a brown pilot coat, paired with jeans rolled up to the ankle, and brown converse. Converse. In the middle of January.

Lavellan flashed him a toothy grin, eyes hidden behind round sunglasses. He quickly walked up to Dorian.

“Ah, you're finally here.” Dorian said.

Lavellan shrugged. “Better late than never.”

A bit taken aback that he wouldn't even apologize for being late, Dorian just let out a  quiet “tsk, tsk, tsk,”, before entering the building and seeking out their landlord.

Solas Woolf was a grumpy, cryptid, undeniably clever and smart man (evident in that he was also a part-time professor at Skyhold), and they got the lease done in no time. Not without Lavellan cracking a few jokes on Solas’ hairless expense, though.

“You're going to get evicted before you even have the chance to move in.” Dorian said once they were out of Solas’ office.

“He wouldn't, I’m a delight.” Lavellan had taken his sunglasses off, revealing brown eyes lined with black. Dorian shuddered at the thought of fighting for the bathroom every morning, and was tempted to call the whole thing off halfway through.

But the thought of finally being rid of his parents’ money and all connection to them, was just oh, so sweet.

“Do you have work? I'll be able to get a friend’s truck for my stuff, if you have time today.” Lavellan asked.

“It’s fine, I don't work on Fridays.”

The smile Dorian got shouldn't have come from something as simple as helping one move. But there stood Lavellan, beaming at him like this was the kindest thing anyone had ever done.

“Brilliant, I'll call him.” He pulled out his phone, then paused. “Do you mind going right now? I'd rather get my shit in sooner than later.”

“Not at all. I have my day cleared for you.” Dorian replied.

Lavellan nodded and turned to make the phone call. Since he was now completely sober and only a little sleep deprived, he pulled out his own phone so he wouldn't eavesdrop. He had two texts from Bull.

-

**Bull: (3.04)**

are u w/ him rn?

**Bull: (3.05)**

ull grow to like him, hes a sweet guy <3

-

Dorian frowned and sent out a  _ “you got me into this you beast”, _ and turned to Lavellan, who seemed to be wrapping up his phone call.

“Okay, great, thanks Varric.” He smiled and hung up, tucking his phone into his coats  inside pocket.

“You know Varric?” Dorian asked.

“Who doesn't know Varric?” Lavellan replied with a smile and an arched eyebrow. Dorian shrugged in agreement. The man seemed to have more connections than there were nugs in the subway tunnels.

“He said he’ll be right over, but it might take closer to an hour. Shall we go upstairs   
while we wait?”

Dorian nodded, and they were at  _ their _ apartment door in moments. As Dorian was pulling out his keys, Lavellan was already turning the lock and pulling the door open. Wait.

“Wait, where'd you get a key?” Dorian asked, frowning.

Lavellan kicked off his converse and turned to him with a shrug. “Varric gave me his.”

Dorian immediately regretted ever giving Varric a spare key. “In case of an emergency”, he’d said. He and Varric seemed to have different definitions of an emergency.

“Right. So, it wasn't just Bull, then.” Dorian grumbled while taking off his coat. He stuffed his scarf into the sleeve, hung it up on a rack and kicked off his boots.

Lavellan hummed in agreement and sat down onto a kitchen counter. He threw his leather coat onto a chair, much to Dorian’s dismay. Though he wasn't a clean freak, he still preferred to keep shared spaces neat. He decided to stay quiet.

“Do you mind putting the kettle on?” Dorian asked as he wandered to his room to retrieve his glasses. He didn’t hear a reply, but the familiar click of the kettle says that he was heard.

“Oh, mind digging out a mug for me? They’re somewhere in the boxes.” Lavellan called out.

Dorian entered Lavellan’s room, and went straight for the cardboard boxes. There were many with varying sizes, all labelled with a marker. Dorian crouched down and let his eyes wander over the boxes, looking for one named ‘mugs’ or ‘dishes’. 

Instead they’re all named with absolute nonsense.  _ Random horseshit _ ,  _ contraband?? _ , and  _ potential biohazard  _ were among the more sensible ones.

“Are your dishes contraband or likely explosives?” Dorian yelled.

“Check ‘treasure’!”

Dorian found the box relatively quick, it being on top of the rest and already tapeless. Opening the flaps, Dorian was greeted with more ridiculous ceramic mugs, many featuring warm colours and stylized animals. He snorted at the sight, pulling out a yellow and white one with a sleeping cat.

“Do you own a single mug without animal imagery?” Dorian asked, stepping into the kitchen.

Lavellan was pouring steaming water into his French press, and rubbed at his chin in thought. “A tough question. I’m leaning towards no.” He chuckled and set the kettle down.

His face lit up once he saw which mug Dorian had picked, and he gave Dorian an approving nod.

“Good taste.”

“So, I’ve been told.” Dorian said.

They prepared their respective beverages in relative silence, occasionally bumping into each other or reaching over each other’s heads with a quick ‘terribly sorry’ or ‘oops, look out’. The kitchen was not made to hold two people, let alone ones with shoulders as wide as Dorian’s or limbs as long as Lavellan’s.

Dorian sat at the kitchen table with his cup of tea, Lavellan opting to resume his spot on the kitchen counter. A heavy silence hung between them.

Dorian couldn’t decide whether the silence was awkward or if it was just him. Lavellan didn’t seem affected, happily sitting on the counter and sipping on his coffee. He realized he was staring so he shifted his focus to his cup. Not exactly exciting, his eyes darted around the room for  _ something _ to catch his attention. For once he cursed his... impersonal decoration, he had absolutely nothing interesting on the walls.

Just as he was starting to go mad, Lavellan opened his mouth. “You alright, Pavus?”

Dorian snapped his eyes to Lavellan’s face, now stretched into a small half of a smile.

“Pretty good.” Dorian answered, taking a sip from his tea. “You?”

“Yeah. Sorry about the drama last night, though.” His smile morphed into a sheepish one. “Bull and Varric both assured me you knew, and were just busy so you weren’t at home.” Lavellan snorted. “Pinned you for a prick because of that.”

“So, I’m an asshole because I had a busy day?” Dorian asked with a laugh.

“Well when you put it like that it sounds stupid,” Lavellan’s toothy grin was back. “My thought progress is flawless; don’t you dare imply otherwise.”

“I can see what you mean.” Dorian said with a shrug. “I assure you, not even I’m so high and mighty that I wouldn’t welcome you in. I’m not like that.”

Lavellan giggled, setting his mug down. “So, what are you like, then?” He asked.

“What an odd question,” Dorian smiled. “But I’ve never turned down the chance to talk about myself.”

“Truly shocked.”

Lavellan had pulled his long leg up on the counter and was leaning on his knee. That couldn’t be comfortable, Dorian thought, with the counter being so small. Maybe it said something about Lavellan that he seemed perfectly content squeezing himself into such a small space.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Dorian curled his moustache. “How about you ask, and I answer?”

Lavellan nodded, and looked away, wracking his brain for questions. Dorian gulped down the rest of his now cooled off tea.

“You’re not British, are you?” He asked.

“Ah,” Dorian set his cup down. “No, I was born in Italy. Venice, to be exact. Lived there ‘til I turned 24, came here to study.”

“Figured from the accent.” Lavellan furrowed his brow. “Or lack thereof.”

Dorian smiled. “Born and bred Englishman, I presume?”

Lavellan scowled. “Pfft, you’d presume wrong. I’m Scottish, actually.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really now? Lost the harsh accent and bagpipe, did you?”

Lavellan rolled his eyes, but the harsh frown melted off his face, replaced by a slowly widening smile. “Yeah, yeah, I also left my pet lake monster at home. Heard it all before.”

Dorian chuckled, at least Lavellan could take a joke. Their new living arrangement wouldn’t last a day if he’d have been uptight.

“What’d you come to study?” Lavellan asked. He was resting his chin on his propped-up knee, and seemed genuinely interested.

“Medicine and law, mainly. I also take a few history courses,”

“Oh? You in Fiona’s lectures?”

“Yeah. I heard of Skyhold from an old tutor and decided to apply for a semester.” Dorian spared a glance at Lavellan, who was still listening intently. He nodded for him to carry on. “Before I even got a reply, I packed my bags and flew across Europe to England. There is only so much sun and lovely Italian ocean breeze one can take.”

“How horribly difficult your life must have been.” Lavellan teased. Dorian decided to ignore the bitter pang he felt at those words.

“What about you? Quite a way from Scotland.” Dorian said, desperate for a change of subject.

“Ehh,” Lavellan tilted his head, in a way a cat might when investigating something. “There’s only so much you can do in a small village in the middle of a bush.”

“Left for the adventure?”

“Well, yeah, kind of. Wanted to see the big cities y’know?” Lavellan’s smile was shy, but not any less genuine than his shit-eating grins. “So, when opportunity and need presented themselves, I left on the next plane.”

“Why London? Why not the more iconic cities, like New York or Paris?” Dorian asked.

Lavellan shrugged. “Didn’t- Don’t want to leave the UK. Not yet anyway. Plus, Skyhold and all. I study too, y’know.” Dorian raised his eyebrows at that. He’d never in his life seen Lavellan around campus, so he figured his earlier visit there was not the norm.

“Oh, really? Never seen you around.” Dorian got up to rinse off his teacup. He gestured to Lavellan that he was still listening, even if he didn’t look it.

“There are over two-hundred people in Fiona’s course, Pavus.”

“Hmm, I suppose so.” He finished washing his cup and set it back in the cabinet. He took Lavellan’s cat mug and rinsed that off too. “History, huh?”

“Yeah. If you don’t know your history, you’re doomed to repeat it, and all that. Always found it interesting.”

Dorian could easily relate. He’d considered a history major as well, and even after settling on medicine he kept study of the old times on the side. Just the thought that all they knew of history were only bits and pieces, and that there was always more to discover made his thirst for knowledge nearly unbearable, and he loved it.

“Good. Then you’ll have no choice but to love the inevitable history rants you’ll be hearing from me.” Dorian joked, turning back to face Lavellan.

He laughed, or rather cackled. “I might even join you on those.”

“It’s a deal then.”

They joked and talked ‘til a text from Varric informed them that he was outside.

Varric was easy to spot, with his trademark ponytail and grin. Let alone the man was barely five feet.

“Dorian, long time no see!” He reached up to pull Dorian into a hug once the pair was close enough.

“Hi, Varric. How are you?” Dorian asked.

“Good, good. Went to get new strings for Bianca, only the best for her.” He grinned and tapped at the guitar strapped onto his back.

“Hey, Tiger. Heard you've taken to breaking and entering?” Varric diverted his attention to Lavellan.

Lavellan scoffed and smirked at the shorter man. “Is it  _ really  _ breaking in if I have the key?” He squatted down to Varric's eye-level.

“Ask Sparkler, he's the one who’s been trespassed.”

Lavellan turned his head to Dorian, one eyebrow lifted and a smile on his lips.  _ Sparkler?   _ Dorian shook his head.  _ Don't ask. _

“You're his accomplice at least, if nothing else.” Dorian said, walking up to the pickup truck door. Varric, still locked in a staring contest with Lavellan threw him the keys, and he unlocked the passenger side door.

“I'm assuming you’ll drive?” Dorian craned his neck to peek at the tall blonde, still squatting and smiling that smug smile of his at Varric.

“Sure, in a bit.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and sat into the passenger seat. He counted four minutes and 54 seconds before he heard a loud clap and exclamations of victory and defeat.

“Got you!”

“You cheated, asshole!”

“Show me the rule that says clapping is not allowed.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“At times like this, I wish I didn't adore you.”

“Love you too, Tiger.”

Finally, Lavellan climbed on the driver’s seat and they waved Varric off. He was but a small, grey leather wearing spec with a massive guitar in the horizon in minutes.

“How long a drive?” Dorian asked.

“Hmm, maybe thirty minutes? Depends on traffic,” Lavellan was concentrating on the road, brows slightly furrowed.

Dorian nodded and started to go through Varric's CD’s. There was a whole lot of synth-pop, glam-rock, some Swedish band Dorian had never heard of, and the same Depeche Mode album in three copies.

Opting for David Bowie, he popped the disk in and leaned back in his chair when his voice started coming through the speakers.

“So, how'd you meet Varric?” Lavellan asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

A great question. Varric just one day sat across from him in the library and started chatting him up like they'd known each other for years, despite Dorian only passing by him at campus. And if the short conversations with any of his friends were anything to go by, this seemed to be the general experience of getting to be a part of Varric Tethras’ life.

“He decided we were friends and didn't take any objections. He practically adopted me.” Dorian replied, and earned a laugh from Lavellan.

“You?”

“Oh, we shared a holding cell.” Lavellan shot him a small smile, but quickly turned back to the road.

“...I’m sorry?”

“Yeah! We were in jail for a bit. Was relatively nice.” His tone was as cheerful as ever, which did nothing to ease Dorian’s confusion.

“May I ask why?”

“Well, for me it was drinking in public. Varric tells a different story every time, so I can't be sure, but I think it had something to do with a dishwasher, a cat, and Hawke.”

“Oh,” Dorian knew of Hawke’s and Varric's jail trips, but didn't know Lavellan was involved. Intriguing. “I was told it had something to do with a bearded dragon, a paperback, and Hawke.”

Lavellan laughed that cackle-snort laughter of his again. “I wonder if we'll ever find out what really happened.”

“Me too. Maybe Hawke will tell a more consistent story.” Dorian said.

He’d seen the infamous Hawke around, but never spoken to him. At this point it felt like it'd be weird with all the things Varric had so helpfully let him in on, like going through someone's entire timeline before meeting them. Not to mention he was always surrounded by people. Very  _ loud _ people.

“Have you ever met Hawke?” Dorian asked. Lavellan didn't seem the type to be turned off from a friendship because of noise and obnoxiousness.

“We've talked. First met him when he came to bail Varric, grabbed me on his way out. I run into him occasionally, but Fenris is kind of intimidating, so we don't really hang out.” Lavellan shuddered at the mention of Fenris’s name.

“You're scared of Fenris?” Dorian tried to hide his smile, but it didn't go unnoticed.

“S’not funny.” Lavellan pouted.

“He’s half your size.”

“Small things can be dangerous too, ever heard of spiders?”

Dorian laughed, and Lavellan's cheeks reddened, he was so pale there was no hiding it.

“You're scared of spiders, too?”

“Have you ever looked at a spider, like  _ really _ looked at one? They’re nasty!” He exclaimed. He was wearing such a disgusted and horrified scowl on his face, Dorian couldn't help but burst out laughing. Again. Lavellan soon joined in.

“It is a bit silly, isn’t it?” Lavellan asked shyly after their fit of laughter had died down.

“There are stranger things to be afraid of.” Dorian said with a shrug.

“Oh really? What are you scared of, then?”

“Lots of things.” They were on the outskirts of London, barren fields passing by in a flash. Dorian felt melancholic when he looked at the dead grass and naked trees.

“Heights, for example.”

Lavellan snorted. “You're scared of heights?” He went silent for a moment. “What else?”

“Nope, a fear for a fear. I got spiders, you get heights.”

“Fenris counts as a valid fear.” He pointed out.

“That he does,” Dorian chuckled. “Alright, I’m a bit terrified of the sea.”

“What happened to the ‘lovely Italian ocean breeze’?” Lavellan turned left. It seemed like they were circling the city.

“Oh, I'm sure it's still there. Better stay far away from me, though.” Dorian shuddered. There was no way of knowing what lurked under the waves, not to mention how sick he got every time he even thought of sea travel. Nope, the sea was not for him.

“Fair enough.” Lavellan nodded.

They were driving through a suburb, old, wooden houses in tight rows passing by on either side of the street. He could still see the dead fields in the distance.

“You want another one?” Lavellan asked. Dorian nodded.

“Fire.” Lavellan said softly, voice devoid of the playfulness and fun it seemed to hold at all times. But before Dorian could question it, they were pulling up onto a driveway.

“Well, we’re here!” That infamous smile was back on his face, the sudden seriousness gone. The moment was so short, that Dorian was almost sure he’d imagined it.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the truck door slamming closed. Lavellan peeked through the window and grinned at Dorian. He’d put his sunglasses back on.

“You coming?”

Dorian got out of the truck and walked to Lavellan’s side, who was smiling at the building in front of them. It looked to be an old house converted into separate flats. Lavellan glanced down at Dorian, and nodded happily.

He strode up the small steps two at a time, dug around in a flower pot for a key and unlocked the door. Inside waited even more stairs and another door. Lavellan pushed the door open with his hip, stepped inside, and held the door open for Dorian.

The flat was a mess. Textbooks, papers, clothes, and piles of shoes littered the floor, and this was just the entrance hall. Dorian chose to keep his shoes on.

“Hold on a bit, I gotta gather my things. Feel free to drink or eat whatever you find.” Lavellan called, kicking off his shoes. He disappeared down the hall, and Dorian heard a door open and close.

Dorian wandered into the living room first. The mess was the same, if not worse. Now pillows, blankets, and comic books had joined the list, piles of thin magazines about heroes covering every surface. The pillows and blankets seemed to be a collapsed pillow fort. Large bookshelves reaching to the ceiling stood against a wall, right behind a large scratching post. At least there didn’t seem to be any rotting food or dishes lying around, like he’d expected. Or maybe they were hidden in the kitchen.

In morbid curiosity, Dorian stepped into the kitchen, and sighed in relief. It seemed to be the cleanest room in the house, or it was just so small it was impossible to dirty up. Herbs lined the windowsill, right next to them a rack holding even more of those ridiculous mugs Lavellan had brought with him. But what really caught Dorian’s eye, was the fridge, or rather the fridge door.

It was covered in pictures, drawings, and reminders for whatever appointments. Many of the pictures featured Lavellan and a blonde girl with the most unfortunate bangs Dorian had ever seen. A few photos featured other people, like Bull or Hawke’s lot, but most of them were just the two blondes. Photos from parties, game nights, amusement parks, and even from what seemed a hiking trip, all featured at least one of the blondes, most showing them both, either selfies or taken by a third party.

“Mrrow,”

Dorian jumped at the sound, and turned around to find a white cat sitting on the kitchen table.

“Hello.” Dorian said, feeling only a little stupid for greeting a cat. The animal blinked at him, and moved closer to the table edge and Dorian.

He extended his hand for it to sniff, and once it started pushing against it, he deemed it safe to scratch behind its ear. The cat leaned into the touch, purring loudly.

“Aren't you a pretty one,” Dorian felt for its neck, and found a small metal plate attached to a pink collar. “...Maurice.”

Maurice blinked at the sound of his name.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous, but your name is horrible.”

“A bit rude, I thought it was a good name.”

Dorian flinched in surprise, and Lavellan sauntered to the pair. Maurice took a step away from him, causing Lavellan to frown.

“Well that's low of you, Maurice.” Dorian scolded, holding his arms open so Maurice could jump into his lap. His long fur tickled Dorian’s nose, but otherwise he was good about being held.

“An evil, rude cat is what you are, Rice.” Lavellan sighed. Maurice narrowed his eyes in response.

“Hey, he’s perfectly polite.” Dorian said, feeling offended in behalf of the white fur monster in his hold. He was purring loudly, as if rubbing his happiness in Lavellan’s face.

“She's a monster and she's well aware of it.”

Dorian paused and turned to Lavellan, raising an eyebrow.

“You named your  _ female _ cat Maurice?” He asked.

“Okay, in my defence,” Lavellan started taking photos off the fridge. “I named her before we knew her sex, and at that point it felt stupid to change it. I was twelve anyway, twelve-year olds get a pass on being stupid.”

Lavellan piled the select photos on the counter, and pressed a big kiss on Maurice’s head. “She's an old, ungrateful, evil little lady but I love her.”

“And you're okay leaving her behind?”

Solas didn't like pets in his building, so it seemed Maurice was staying behind. Dorian felt a pang of sympathy for Lavellan, it must be sad to leave a companion of many years.

“Not really. I'll miss her, but Sera’s taking care of her. She wouldn't like it anyway, she's used to running outside.” Lavellan smiled sadly. “She took the move from Scotland pretty hard, I can't do that to her again.”

“And Solas wouldn't like it.” Dorian added.

“Pfft, as if that'd stop me.” Lavellan’s grin was back, and he secured the pack of photos with a rubber band. The fridge door didn't seem to lose even half of its photos.

“And Sera’s the one you lived with here?” Dorian asked.

Lavellan nodded, grabbing a picture off the fridge and bringing it to Dorian and Maurice.

“That's her,” Lavellan pointed at the girl with the bangs. The picture was taken at night with flash, and it showed Lavellan, Sera, and a third blonde Dorian knew to be one of Hawke and Varric’s friends. Lavellan and Hawke’s friend #1 were balancing a horrified Sera on a skateboard, the two men laughing hard.

“This picture has a story, it seems.” Dorian stated, letting Maurice jump out of his arms. Lavellan chuckled and put it back on the fridge.

“Sera would convince you we were trying to kill her, Anders would lament about his broken skateboard, and I was too drunk to tell you what was happening in my head.”

Lavellan stared at the pictures, a soft smile on his face. After a moment he cleared his throat and turned to Dorian.

“Help me carry my shit to the car?”

They loaded surprisingly few boxes to the truck (honestly, Dorian could’ve probably fit them in his car’s trunk), Lavellan and Maurice had a bittersweet separation and Lavellan drove them back to their apartment. The drive was silent, and Dorian noticed that Lavellan had indeed driven around London instead of just driving through, and when he asked about it Lavellan just said he hated city traffic.

Once at their building, it took considerably more time and effort to drag the boxes up five flights of stairs, and after the second hour of dragging and lifting smelly and broken cardboard, Dorian was ready to jump out of a window just to avoid stairs.

Lucky for him, they were done, all Lavellan’s belongings now filling up his tiny room.

“If I never have to help anyone move again, it will be too soon.” Dorian complained, popping his stiff back.

Lavellan laughed, setting his sunglasses on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t taken his shoes or coat off.

“Going somewhere?” Dorian asked.

“Yeah,” Lavellan ran a tattooed hand through his hair. “Me and Sera are going to a pub with some friends.”

“Ah,” Dorian nodded.

“...You wouldn't like to come, would you?” Lavellan asked, a nervous smile creeping on his face.

Dorian laughed and shook his head no. “No, I have projects and work due for class.” He didn't think it relevant that there was also a bottle of fine Rosé with his name on it.

“That’s a shame. Next time, yeah?” Lavellan held the small smile, but he looked so disappointed that Dorian almost felt obligated to go with him. But he held his ground.

“Perhaps,” Dorian turned to put the kettle on, only partly because he couldn't look at those rejected brown eyes. “Have fun.”

“I will!” And with that, Lavellan was gone, slamming the door closed after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this is a lot longer than the first chapter, but i rly wanted to have felis moved in in this chapter SO here yall go, way too many words of them fucking around and absolutely nothing but talking happening


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